


Teddy

by Ladycat



Series: Shadow'verse [17]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 03:30:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladycat/pseuds/Ladycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike, a creature that lied as easily as he loved, never lied to those he loved.</p><p>And Spike never let go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teddy

She’d begged and pleaded. Wheedled, cajoled, bribed where she could get away with it, and then just flat out whined until Willow had snapped that going was better than getting an early case of tinnitus. For the first time in almost two weeks, the house was empty of any other living soul. Silence settled like dust through the rooms, muffling the memories of too many voices and too loud feet and just too _much_ that had filled her home for so long. Seated lotus position on her bed, Dawn took a deep, cleansing breath. It was so _good_ to finally be alone!

Euphoria lasted only a few moments.

The silence grew thicker, heavier, bringing with it the whisper of voices that would no longer echo down the hallway, complaining about a stopped up bathtub or a ruined tshirt. Ginger and cinnamon fell away, replaced with the painfully familiar _Sunshine_ by Clinique, and something Dawn had never known the name of but just smelled like _mom_ to her. Remembered arguments reflourished, prior hurts now unable to be soothed pestering her like mosquitoes on a warm summer’s night. Dawn didn’t know when she started crying again, barely aware of the warm drip of tears down her cheeks.

Barely two weeks living in the heart of Scooby Central, and she’d forgotten. The thought sliced through her belly the way a knife had, not so many days ago, the remaining cut prickling in counterpoint. _Why_ twisted that mental knife even deeper, because the only reasons she could come up with were _busy_ and _frustrated_ to _too many people_ and _hovering_ and _so much to do_ and she’d _forgotten_ that she was alone now.

It didn’t matter if she was in a crowd or truly by herself. She was _alone_ now. There would never be anyone like Buffy or Joyce again, no matter how close Buffy’s friends tried to pretend, or what ties she’d create for herself when she was older. She’d had a mother and a sister and now she had nothing at all.

That thought led to other thoughts, each more dull than the next. She knew, distantly, that she was making herself depressed. Giving in to the empty blankness that Buffy’s friends worked so hard to keep her out of, for their own sakes, as well as hers. But without their distraction— _distraction_ —Dawn could finally see the truth of everything. She was Dawn, green-glowy, and young, and no matter what anyone told her, she’d never have her family back again. In the space between her skull there was only what she could fill it with, and now there were no new memories to create. Just nothing.

She didn’t notice when the door to the house opened. Her misery subsumed her, blocking out everything but the aching rasp of her own breath, echoing in her ears. She noticed but did not care when her room was invaded, the scent of leather and cigarettes surrounding her long before arms that were not warm wrapped around her and a voice that was hummed gently against her temple. Her body was rocked back and forth until the subtle reminder worked its way through her thoughts—

And mentally slapped her upside her head.

“No,” Spike told her, the word full of smoke that smelled of earth instead of tobacco. The humming didn’t stop, or maybe that was her own mind that had picked up the thread of it, but she wrapped herself around it the way Spike wrapped himself around her. “It’s all right, ’bit, I understand.”

“But I made them go away!” she cried.

“And they’ll come back, pigeon. They’ll come back to you, cause you’re as important to them as she was. And I’ll never leave.”

“You will. You want _her_.”

It was the first time she’d acknowledged it, and something inside felt cleaner for it. She waited for Spike to pull away, to tacitly admit that she was right no matter how he blustered to the contrary. But Spike only chuckled, low and smooth, and held her tighter.

“Wanted her like pretty girls want diamonds. Want _you_ the way a fish wants water about it. Push as hard as you want, Dawn, but I’m not—”

What he wasn’t didn’t need to be spoken and Dawn needed need to hear. She needed to _feel_ it: turning in his embrace she wrapped too-long arms and too-skinny legs around a frame that held rock-solid beneath her, clinging as tightly as only a creature that did not need to breathe could allow, and told herself over and over that she wasn’t alone and that Spike, a creature that lied as easily as he loved, never lied _to_ those he loved.

And Spike never let go.


End file.
